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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27479518">Bury Me With It</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inherited_by_Ocelot/pseuds/Inherited_by_Ocelot'>Inherited_by_Ocelot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Can you blame him, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Fix-It, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier fakes his own death, Jaskier is a dramatic bitch, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, only a little tho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:01:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27479518</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inherited_by_Ocelot/pseuds/Inherited_by_Ocelot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier has waited long enough for an apology that might never come, so he takes matters into his own hands in the most dramatic way he knows how. (not a Death-fic)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>289</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bury Me With It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Word travels as it is wont to do among small villages. So with nothing but small events to liven up their grey and dull lives; stories of that nature are bound to fly. It starts as a whisper just out of his hearing, small talk of a traveler struck down by illness in a tavern up north. Nothing special to note, but the gossip is good enough to pass the lips of nosey barmaids and tired farmers with nothing better to do.</p><p>Geralt had heard the beginnings of this rumor in the last village he'd stopped in, and is more than content to ignore the inane chatter in favor of his tankard of ale. It's only when the stories become more detailed that he begins to pay them any heed.</p><p>The man, they say, was a bard. A rather colorful sort, with songs and stories of great adventures. Not unusual for a traveling musician by any means. It's the side eyed glances and low voiced murmurs that finally catch his attention, and he is half way out of the tavern by the time he hears someone utter "the White Wolf's bard."</p><p>Geralt is quick to saddle Roach, reattaching his gear with an ease bred out of years of practice. It would be hard to tell from the outside but his mind is racing, turning the information he's collected around and breaking things down. Of course this could all be one unfortunate coincidence but he needs to know. He hasn't seen Jaskier since the dragon hunt, and hadn't been able to figure out a proper way to make amends with him. Feelings and talking were as foreign to him as the finer things in life, and best left to people like the bard.</p><p>He mounts Roach, and pauses long enough to get his bearings before taking the road east out of town. It will ultimately end up at a fork that should split and head north towards his destination. It takes him about a half a day to reach it, having slowed on the path when he realized that there was no point in pushing Roach that hard. If the man really is dead then he isn't going anywhere.</p><p>He's barely passed the first few huts when he looks around realizing that the area he's in would be better considered a village than a town. The buildings are small and spread apart, the thatched roofs barely holding onto their wooden supports. The plant life here is as abundant as the people, that is to say <em>lacking.</em> It's still winter, if not just the end of it, and the trees are bare of their leaves. He is not greeted by anyone as he approaches. The shutters of the windows make no movement, doors do not swing shut, there seems to be no one living here at all. He's inclined to believe it's a ghost town, a place better passed through than stopped in.</p><p>The first sign of life comes with fresh hay as he puts Roach in the stables next to the dilapidated inn. She huffs at him as he drops down from the saddle, ready to ignore him to snack on the dried plants. He leaves her at the ready, not expecting to stay very long, and she gives an annoyed swish of her tail as he walks out. He notes the smoke rising from the chimney of the building as he approaches the entrance, not exactly content but as least vaguely satisfied that at least someone is around and he hasn't wasted the trip. He could at the very least get a meal out of the journey.</p><p>The door creaks under his hand as he pushes it open, and though there are very few people inside, the interruption of silence is ignored as the patrons continue to nurse their alcohol. By the way most of them are hunched over and bundled- no doubt in a bid to conserve warmth- the small fire in the hearth is doing nothing to warm the room. The lack of attention suits Geralt just fine.</p><p>He approaches a small counter near the entrance where a surprisingly portly woman is counting coins. She, like all of the patrons, doesn't seem to notice his approach and Geralt has to clear his throat after a few minutes of awkwardly standing there. She drops a final coin on top of a neat pile, and looks up in disinterest. She stares flatly at him and makes it clear that if he wants something he's going to have to lead with it.</p><p>"I'm looking for someone- a man. I've heard he may have been here." He's not sure why, but he's stalling.</p><p>"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific than that." She leans one elbow on the counter.</p><p>"A bard, really annoying, won't shut up unless you let him sing. Wears obnoxiously bright clothing."</p><p>The woman frowns at that, resting her chin on the back of her hand, her other hand subconsciously carding the stack of coins. "Brown hair, lovely blue eyes?"</p><p>"<em>Uh</em>, sure."</p><p>"Poor thing wasn't doing much singing when he got here. Barely made it past the door before dropping." She looks thoughtful before she pulls something from behind the counter. Geralt feels a trickle like ice water run down his spine as she sets a familiar case in front of her.</p><p>"He was coughing up blood near the end, passed away that same night. Didn't have much in the way of belongings, I was planning on selling this off but...do you recognize it?"</p><p>Geralt numbly pulls the case forward and opens it. Any doubts he might have clear instantly when he sees the fine dark wood and delicate golden details inlaid on it's surface. He pulls the lute out, gingerly turning it over in his hands.</p><p>"Where...?"</p><p>The woman takes pity on him, and gestures towards the back door of the inn with a hook of her thumb. "Just buried him out back."</p><p>He puts the lute back in it's case and hangs it over his shoulder before he makes his way out. The back of the inn is just as desolate looking as the rest of the town, and it doesn't take Geralt long to spot the fresh patch of disturbed dirt. There's a haggard looking man leaning on a shovel nearby, eyeing him warily as he approaches. It's impressive someone even took the effort to bury him when the ground is still frozen, but even in the winter the threat of a corpse attracting monsters is very real. It was done purely out of necessity, impersonal and cold and <em>wrong</em>.</p><p>When Geralt stops by the end of the mound, the man straightens his back with a grimace, resting his wrists over the handle of the shovel casually. He jerks his chin at the ground with a scowl and leans forward.</p><p>"Good riddance to 'em. Useless waif, will probably do more as fertilizer than 'e ever did in life." And as if that wasn't enough, he spits on the grave. <em>Big mistake</em>.</p><p>In the blink of an eye Geralt has the man by the collar and lifted up so that he can only reach the ground with the tips of his toes. The man struggles in his hold as his shovel clangs to the earth below, grappling at the hands on his collar in panic.</p><p>"The man in that grave has done more in his<em> life</em> than you'll ever manage to piss away for the <em>rest of yours</em>." Geralt grits out, letting the man writhe for a few moments longer before he drops him to the ground.</p><p>The man quickly scrambles away, not sparing a glance back as he beats a retreat from the yard. Once he's out of sight, Geralt kneels down in front of the mound, his emotions finally kicking his legs out from under him. He rests a hand on the ground as if to try and feel the person buried beneath.</p><p>The Witcher hears the back door to the inn creak open and the crunch of footsteps behind him as someone approaches. He glances back as the woman from the counter stops beside him, feeling a distinct spark of annoyance at the interruption. He keeps his mouth shut and hopes she'll get the message and leave him alone.</p><p>"You must be the Witcher he was going on about. Asked for you a few times, he did. Wanted to apologize or something. Wasn't making a lick of sense at the end there, was babbling on about beaches of all things...well as much as he could, poor thing could barely speak."</p><p>Her words pile on him like weights and his shoulders slump as he stares at the bare grave. He can feel regret burning at him, bubbling deep in his stomach and slowing rising like bile in his throat. The need to be left alone is all consuming at that moment, and as if some higher power were listening he sees the woman pull her shawl closer over her shoulders with a shiver, giving him a sad look before returning to the inn. She pauses in the entrance to talk to someone before the door swings shut behind her.</p><p>Geralt doesn't know how long he kneels there. He knows there's nothing to be done about it, that the bard would die eventually, but somehow it does nothing to ease his conscience.</p><p>Jaskier had been different. He'd been fresh eyed and young when they'd met, naïve to the realities of the world, but still aiming to change it in his own way. He'd approached him earnestly, never with fear; even when he realized who he was talking to. He followed Geralt straight into danger for his story, stubbornly refusing to turn back, even after he'd taken a punch to the stomach. He was an idiot. But he <em>had</em> changed things. He'd weaseled his way into Geralt's personal life, wedged himself in and refused to move. He had overexaggerated his deeds, and somehow, <em>impossibly</em>, fixed his reputation.</p><p>Geralt had thought over his words at the mountain many times since they'd passed his lips. He remembered the feeling of white hot rage that caused him to lash out. Knew he wasn't right and now...<em>now</em> it was too late to fix things.</p><p>There's a small commotion from the front of the inn, some kind of drunken scuffle that ends with two men being thrown out, if the resulting yells and cursing are any indication, Geralt ignores it. He clenches his hand on the ground into a fist, grabbing up some on the loose soil between his fingers as he bows his head forward.</p><p>"Jaskier..." He can almost smell the odd mixture of ink, wood oil, and flowers that is the bard.</p><p>"The things that I said to you...I was wrong. I...I'm sorry. <em>I'm so sorry</em>." He dips his head forward so that it's almost touching the ground and ignores the way his eyes burn.</p><p>"Why Geralt, I may just <em>cry</em>."</p><p>Geralt whips around, throwing the dirt in his hand straight at the voice before he registers what he's doing. The figure behind him sputters, madly wiping at the soil on his face. It takes him a moment to recognize him, partly because he'd just been fully convinced the other man was dead, but also partially because he looks so <em>different</em>.</p><p>He catches a flash of his blue eyes glaring at him between swipes of his hands, running through shoulder length hair to shake the remaining dirt out. He's not wearing anything bright, instead he's sporting a simple white tunic and black pants. The flashiest thing about him is a dark blue cloak, the hood, having dropped from his face in his fussing, is lined with fine grey fur. He'd been leaning against a dead tree nearby and there are small dry pieces of bark clinging to the fur which he manages to shake loose with the soil.</p><p>"Jaskier?! What the <em>fuck!</em>" Geralt drops the lute to the side and launches himself at the bard, landing a solid punch to his middle that levels him. He sits over him glaring, and Jaskier glares right back as he takes a few gasping breaths between coughs.</p><p>"Ow! Damnit Geralt<em>- Ow!" </em>the bard wheezes, one hand covering his sore stomach. "<em>I mean yes I deserved that</em> but OW!"</p><p>Jaskier's breath is coming out in little puffs of steam as it meets the cold air and for a moment he just lays on the ground staring up at the empty branches of the tree above him. He lets out a quiet chuckle, keeping his eyes locked on the sky to avoid meeting Geralt's stern gaze.</p><p>"You're a right stubborn bastard, you know that?" He's met with silence, broken by the rustle of Geralt's armor as he shifts his shoulders and stands up.</p><p>Jaskier jackknifes up, wincing and wrapping his arms around his waist in pain.</p><p>"Hold on you <em>big oaf!</em>" He staggers to his feet using the tree as support.</p><p>"I have nothing to say to you bard!" Geralt leans down to pick up the lute case, shoving it at Jaskier as he passes. The bard fumbles with it for a moment before he slings it over his shoulder and scurries to catch up to the Witcher.</p><p>"Do you have <em>any</em> idea how much time it took me to put this together? <em>Honestly</em> Geralt! You have <em>nothing</em> to say?! It seems to me you had a great deal more than that when you thought I was <em>dead</em>!"</p><p>Geralt rounds on him with a growl and Jaskier ignores him, far too used to his brand of intimidation to care. He keeps his stare level as he flicks a loose piece of hair away from his face and crosses his arms. The Witcher opens his mouth, but pauses angrily when he realizes he doesn't have anything to say in his own defense. Instead he grabs Jaskier's face, large hands on either side of his head to insure he doesn't move. He leans in close enough that their noses nearly touch and the bard tries to pull away, alarmed at his proximity.</p><p>"If you ever, <strong><em>ever</em></strong>, do something like that again; I will put you in the ground <em>myself</em>." His voice is a low rumble.</p><p>"Do you understand me?" He grabs his face a little tighter, accidentally pulling the thick brown hair under his palms. Jaskier nods as much as he can in his grip, bright blue eyes wide. Geralt stares deeply into his eyes a few moments longer and ignores the flush creeping over the other man's face as he releases his hold.</p><p>Jaskier takes a step back, fussing at his hair. He's obviously flustered but still looks like he's ready for a fight.</p><p>"Well how else was I supposed to get an apology Geralt? You weren't exactly very forthcoming and I was tired of waiting."</p><p>He pulls at the ends of his cloak, tugging them closed against the cold, sending a fine plume of mist into the air as he huffs in Geralt's general direction. The Witcher doesn't miss the moisture gathering in the bard's eyes before the other man turns away. He isn't sure what he's thinking when he reaches out and grabs his wrist. He just knows he can't deal with tears. He can fight literal nightmares but the thought of dealing with a crying Jaskier has him reeling. So he does the only thing he can think of, and spins him around into an awkward embrace.</p><p>"What th-" Jaskier tenses against him, and the lute case smacks against the side of Geralt's face.</p><p>"Just<em> shut up</em> for a second." Geralt rumbles over the other man's shoulder, shoving the case away from his face. He can feel the moment that the bard gives in, slumping against him in silent defeat.</p><p>"I'm <em>sorry</em>." It's like pulling thorns from his flesh, painful and hard to extract but helpful nonetheless. "What I said on the mountain...it was unjust."</p><p>Jaskier pulls himself back to look at Geralt, eyes flickering across his face as if reading a difficult passage in a tome. He doesn't push the Witcher away, just stares. Intently. The bard brings one hand up as if to caress his face, something vaguely tender and fond in his eyes. Which changes in a snap because suddenly he's grabbing one of the belts slung across his front roughly, jerking Geralt forward with a surprising amount of strength.</p><p>"<em>Now listen here</em>. I spent a good amount of coin arranging this so that you could pull your head out of your <em>lovely</em> ass. I fully expected an apology, but <em>don't</em> think this means I've forgiven you, you brute." Geralt can see the fire in his eyes, but he can also read the man just as well. He's already been forgiven. It's taking all that Jaskier has not to crack a smile, he can see the corners of his mouth twitching, and where he bites down at his bottom lip to keep from cracking. He'll play along for now.</p><p>"Okay. What should I do then?"</p><p>"...Well, you can start by helping me pay the grave digger extra, I'm pretty sure I owe him a new pair of trousers."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My friend and wonderful Beta reader helped me get this out, I've been meaning to for a while now and it's one of the only things that helps distract me from how busy my life is between work and art commissions. I'm really just hoping we get some kind of update from Joey Batey about Jaskier soon because we've gotten to see everyone else and I'm getting really restless. Thank you for taking the time to read this if you've made it all the way through, let me know what you think, and if you guys are interested I'll make another chapter from Jaskier's POV.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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